Melt My Heart to Stone
by VeniVidiViciousx
Summary: Who was The Huntsman before "The Heart is a Lonely Hunter"? Could he have known love? Could it have just as easily been taken away from him? (Graham/OC and rated M for later chapters.) R&R, please!
1. Prologue: The Blacksmith's Daughter

**Disclaimer: **_I do not own anything OUAT-related, though Ylva is mine. The title "Melt My Heart to Stone" is taken from an Adele song. I love me some Graham, and the idea for this story kind of popped into my head while I was writing my Killian Jones fanfic. I hope you all enjoy!_ **This takes place before "The Heart Is a Lonely Hunter". I'll likely end this fic where that flashback begins. I just had to wonder****…while man is corrupt, what exactly could have made Graham despise other humans so? Stay tuned!  
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_Reviews make me happy! Any advice on improvements will be very much appreciated! I tend to write at unspeakable hours of the night, so forgive any slight grammatical errors I may have missed!_

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**Prologue  
**_The Blacksmith's Daughter_

"Ow, mama!" The young girl shouted, wincing at her mother's attempt at braiding her golden locks.

"I'm sorry, dear. I'm almost done here." The older woman muttered, adding a bow at the end before smoothing her delicate fingers over the braids. "There. Now you look presentable. Keep away from the forge when your father's working, love."

The girl stood and slouched at her mother's warning. "But papa promised he would let me help."

"Ylva," the woman warned as she stood and pressed her hands over her growing belly. "Your father is working on an important commission for the duke. He doesn't need a child distracting him. Now go out and play. Supper will be ready before sundown."

Ylva let it go then, turning and dragging her feet along the floor of their small cottage and making her way outside. There were other children just outside her home, flooding the square with games of hopscotch and tag and little girls chasing after horrified boys for kisses.

At eight years old, Ylva had been told by many that she was much too wise for her years. She'd always been quite small compared to the other children, but just as lovely and almost doll-like with porcelain skin and large blue eyes. However, she never quite acted 'lovely'. While other children chose to spend the day pushing each other around and jumping rope, Ylva stayed inside and watched her father forge iron and steel into beautiful, deadly creations, and the young girl longed for the day where she'd be old enough to learn to forge as well. She knew more about bending steel than playing with dolls, and could tell the difference between a scimitar and a cutlass before she learned to read.

The young girl sat on a patch of grass as she watched the other children, who were never quick to welcome her over and play with them, even if she'd wanted to. She sighed and resorted to plucking blades of grass before catching movement out of the corner of her eyes.

Ylva straightened and looked toward the edge of the forest where she saw another young boy, about her age, immediately recognizing him. She stood then, making her way past a few other cottages and over a muddy trail that left her dress ruined as soon as she'd stepped into it.

She stood at the edge of the forest and watched as the boy examined his surroundings. Ylva had taken an interest in him since he first made his way into town a couple of years ago. Her own parents had warned her to stay away from him, which only meant she wanted to get to know him more.

He was about her age, though almost a foot taller than she, with a set of dark brown locks atop his head and a matching pair of eyes.

Ylva watched him a while longer and gasped as a grey-furred wolf approached him. She almost yelled for him to run away, but stopped short when the boy reached out and hugged the creature. The wolf responded by whimpering and pawing at the boy, and right then, Ylva noticed the pups that joined after it, running circles excitedly around the boy – among them was a smaller silver-white pup with red eyes, and it seemed to be the only one that took notice to the little girl standing at the edge of the forest.

"It's true!" Ylva exclaimed, but brought her hands up to cover her mouth as the boy and the wolf pups along with their mother looked her way. She froze, thinking for a moment that they'd attack her, but when they didn't, she took it upon herself to move closer. The white pup yelped and made its way toward her, followed by the others, but their mother remained with the boy.

"What's true?" The boy asked shyly.

Ylva picked the white pup up and approached him with a smile on her face, "Everyone in town says you were raised by wolves and papa said Alma from the tavern found you." she stated plainly, bouncing the pup in her arms. "Are these your family?"

He looked taken aback, but nodded once. "Yes."

"They seem really nice!" She exclaimed, "Papa said wolves are dangerous, but they look nice."

"Some wolves are. When Alma found me, she's the only one who came to see me." The boy said, motioning toward the mother wolf. She was seated on her hind legs, keeping an eye on her pups as they hopped around the strange girl that had joined them.

"Do you like living with people?"

"I like Alma," he muttered, "She's nice to me. But the kids aren't."

"Oh, I know!" Ylva shouted, "Alma gives me sweets when papa visits the tavern, but mama calls her a…a…a bar witch or something."

He didn't look pleased at that, but he remained silent and placed his hand on the mother's head. "Did you follow me here?"

She set the pup down and straightened before nodding, "I was alone watching the others play but then I saw you and I wanted to talk to you. Mama and papa never let me, but you seem nice enough."

He furrowed his brows and sat beside the she-wolf, only to be attacked by the group of pups once more. Ylva followed suit and sat in front of him. "May I stay with you until supper time?"

The boy looked at the she-wolf as if for permission, and when she nudged his arm with her snout, he shrugged, "I guess so. What's your name?"

"Ylva. What's yours?"

"You can call me Graham."


	2. Chapter 1: A Thoughtful Gift

**A/N: **Ready and review, yes? I'd love some feedback!

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**Chapter 1  
**_A Thoughtful Gift_

Ylva sat on her workbench and admired the project she'd been working on for quite some time now. It had taken her weeks to gather the supplies and create the perfect hunting weapon for Graham. She only hoped he wouldn't mind the rarity of the object, given he was never a fan of things that might have made him look a tad too materialistic.

Carefully, she gathered her supplies and placed them in their designated areas, wiping her brow on her sleeve and tucking a few rogue strands of blonde hair behind her ears before removing her apron and setting it on the workbench.

Her father walked into the workshop just as she'd finished wrapping the bow and a set of arrows in parcel paper. "What have you got there, m'dear?"

"Oh, just a gift for Graham," she said, waiting for the annoyed cluck of his tongue at the man's name. "It's a special day, papa, and he's my closest friend." While she knew her father hadn't approved of his only daughter befriending the town's 'wolf-boy,' he'd grown to tolerate Graham at best over the years. It frustrated Ylva to no end. She'd always had trouble making friends, given her strange interests in what others would deem as 'unladylike'. Graham had been the one person she'd grown to trust as much as she trusted her own father, whom she loved with all her heart.

"Is that what you've been keeping secret all this time?" He cleared his throat and moved past her, picking up a longsword he'd been working on and moving to the grindstone to sharpen it. The sound of metal scraping stone filled the room and Ylva had to inch a bit closer in order for him to hear her.

"Yes. I'm sorry, I kept it from you, but I was sure you'd keep me out of the forge if I told you." She held the parcels to her chest and frowned, which she knew always drew a response from the man. Elrik Thorinn had a reputation for his hard exterior and master craftsmanship when it came to weapons, but as soon as his daughter's lovely porcelain features fell, he immediately replaced that cold facade with that of a gentle father who'd move mountains for his daughter if it were possible.

Elrik moved his foot from the grindstone's pedal and reached over with a free hand, placing it on her arm. "You should learn to be a bit more trusting, dear. I wouldn't trust even the most seasoned apprentice in my forge over you. After all, you learned from the best."

She grinned, pride swelling in her chest at her father's words. There had been many boys hoping for an apprenticeship with him, but he'd kindly declined in favor of teaching Ylva, knowing she wouldn't have the chance to prove her skills to other, less favorable blacksmiths in the area.

"Supper should be ready soon," he said, "But I think I'll work on a thing or two in the meantime."

Ylva made her way past her father, stopping briefly to press a kiss to his cheek before making her way out of their small home through the exit located at the other end of her father's forge. "I won't be long."

Without waiting for a reply, Ylva stepped out, the crisp fall breeze welcoming her after spending hours in the hot, dim workshop. The sun was still high enough, signaling that she had an hour, maybe two, before having to return.

She could barely contain her excitement as she made haste toward the nearby village tavern. Alma stood at the bar, wiping it down with a rag to prepare for the regular customers at sundown, once everyone retired from a hard day's work. Ylva's mother had never taken a liking to the tavern maid, assuming what Ylva learned most women assumed when it came to bar maids. While the woman was never a beauty, she commanded attention with an air of confidence that would make even the strongest man submissive. Graham loved her like a mother, and she'd in turn raised him as her only son.

The auburn-haired woman smiled kindly when she saw Ylva enter, eyeing the parcels and pointing toward the stone stairway that led to the vacant rooms upstairs, "You know where to find him."

Ylva thanked the woman and made her way up the steps, quickening as she reached the last door to the right of the corridor. She fumbled a bit with the packages in her arms and used her free fist to knock on the wooden door twice.

She heard shuffling within the room and a gruff, 'Coming' before the door opened to reveal a very rugged-looking Graham, his curly brown hair tousled in every direction, bare-chested and clad only in a pair of breeches and boots. At the sight of Ylva, his eyes widened before he quickly bumped her back and shut the door behind him.

Ylva blinked, wide-eyed and scoffed, reaching behind her and finding the knob to the door across from Graham's, motioning for him to follow her as she opened it and stepped into the vacant room.

This room looked just like every other in Alma's tavern, adorned with a single bed, covered in freshly laundered white sheets, and a small bedside table. A desk and chair had been positioned just underneath the only window, leading out to a view of the village square. Ylva carefully placed the parcels on the desk and turned to look at her friend as he entered the room. The corner of her mouth twitched as she noticed the look of guilt on his face, and it took every bit of strength not to laugh at him. "Long night of ale and women keeping you from your promises, Graham?"

"Blame Rhys," he muttered, naming his good friend and fellow huntsman, "The man drags me everywhere he goes."

Ylva rolled her eyes and stepped onto the bed, gesturing toward the direction of his room. "Honestly, do you even know this one's name?"

He paused at that, clearing his throat and pointed at the parcels that rested beside her and suddenly sounding very interested, "You bring presents. What's the occasion?"

"Your name day," Ylva said simply.

"My…_I _don't even know my own birthdate, Ylva. You know that."

"I know, but I came across Alma's journal, and—"

"You read her journal?"

"Yes, don't you listen?" Ylva waved her hand in dismissal, "I was only looking for one thing. Did you know Alma has an entry for almost every single day? Truthfully, I found quite a few journals, but I found the entry mentioning a little boy lost in the woods. And so, here we are, and here's your gift."

Graham stared at her for a moment, brushing his fingers through his hair, "I feel a 'but' coming on."

She groaned and pushed the gift his way, "You promised you'd take me hunting one day. I was hoping this would inspire you to do so."

He chuckled at that and shook his head, his curiosity finally getting the best of him as he reached for one and tore the brown paper away. Ylva shifted to her knees, clearly as excited as if she were the one receiving the gift. Graham's amusement faded to a look of amazement and disbelief as he held his new hunting bow up, his free hand running over the delicate recurve and patterns that she'd spent hours perfecting. "This is…"

"Dwarven steel!" Ylva exclaimed before he could finish. She shifted off the bed to stand beside him, admiring her own work, "Powerful, but light. You'll be able to shoot shorter arrows from a longer distance, and…" she turned away from him briefly, unwrapping the second parcel herself and turning to reveal a quiver full of matching arrows, "…these arrows will strike clean through the animal as if it were made of butter."

Graham took the quiver and seemed unsure of what to say. He carefully set his gifts down and looked at Ylva for a short while. Her almond-shaped blue eyes were wide as saucers, but the excitement on her face soon gave way to concern, "Do you like it?"

"I…" He stuttered for a moment and spread his arms wide before enveloping her petite frame in a bear-hug that borderline crushed her. "I love it, Ylva. I don't know how to repay you…you didn't have to—"

She held her hand up to silence him, "You know what I want. I'm sure the girl in your room can find her way out once she realizes your gone."

Without another word, Graham slipped the quiver over his head, letting the leather strap rest over his bare chest as he gripped the bow with one hand and took her wrist in the other, "You win. Let's get out of here."


	3. Chapter 2: A Hunting Trip

**A/N:** This chapter's a bit long, but I hope you all enjoy it all the same! As usual, constructive criticism make me smile. This started off as just an idea, and I find myself thinking of more and more interactions between Ylva and Graham. I know it's a little slow-paced, but patience, lovelies!

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**Chapter 2  
**_A Hunting Trip_

"Where are we going exactly?" Ylva asked, stepping over an overturned tree. They must have been walking for quite some time, given that the sun had already gone down significantly, a dim light casting through the trees made the path ahead of her slightly more visible.

Graham, on the other hand, moved effortlessly ahead of her through the wood. While twigs and branches snagged against Ylva's gown, his bare chest and back seemed untouched by the sharp edges. "We're almost there." He said simply, turning to make sure she'd remained behind him.

Ylva winced as another twig caught her arm. She looked down to see a few scratches along her gown. Great. Her mother would kill her for it. Ylva preferred a simple shirt and breeches to move around, but her mother would not stand for it. While they weren't people of nobility, her father's popularity as a renowned blacksmith meant meeting a noble or two.

Which meant Ylva had no choice but to look as ladylike as they could afford.

She'd been too busy swatting a spider web to notice that Graham stopped suddenly, and she ran right into him from behind with a quiet '_Oomf_'. "Oh. Sorry." She grumbled. Maybe hunting with the man hadn't been such a good idea.

Graham reached around and took her hand, pulling her forward to stand beside him and pointed forward. Ylva gasped at the sight.

Right in front of her, right in the middle of the vast, crowded forest was a clearing that must have stretched for at least half an acre. The sound of running water signaled that a creek or river must have been nearby. A small wooden cabin stood at the very opposite end, with a small pond situated just a few meters in front of it. Sunlight poured in dimly due to the time of day, but Ylva gathered that it must have looked absolutely stunning when the sun was at its highest.

Graham tugged her forward and grinned at her expression, "I suppose you can call this my second home. It's where I come to hunt game. I find the company of other huntsmen a bit…distracting at times."

"Oh…" was all Ylva managed to say as she stared at her surroundings open-mouthed. "This is…_beautiful_, Graham."

"Thank you. It's peaceful. I used to come here when I needed to think. The path here is simple enough." Ylva scoffed at that, shaking her head, but listened as he pointed behind them, "I've marked the fallen trees on the way here."

"Am I allowed to come out here?" She asked, stepping over a boulder and into the warm grass outlining the glade. She walked toward the log cabin. Graham stayed at her heels.

"Of course. I did bring you here after all."

"True." Ylva stopped at the pond, smiling at the sight. Lilypads covered most of it, thought she was able to make out a fish or two swimming underneath them. A frog rested near the edge of the pond and hopped away as they approached. As they moved closer to the cabin, she noticed the sound of rushing water grew louder and the closer they got, the more she was able to make out that a thin stream ran along the other end of the clearing.

"I've got to get a few things. I may have a change of clothes for you as well. Your dress isn't in the best state at the moment."

She wrinkled her nose and nodded, following behind him as he opened the door to the cabin. It was a lot more spacious than it looked from the outside. Graham moved toward a small end table and blocked her view for a moment before moving aside to reveal he'd lit a candle. Ylva looked around and surveyed the room. A single bed covered in bear belts stood in one corner while a matching rug lay across a small fireplace on the opposite end of the room. There was a small table at the very far right with a single chair and an empty bowl in the center.

Beside the fireplace stood what looked like a wooden bathtub with a pail on one side and a sponge resting on the edge. It was cozy, and seemed to have every little convenience for a hunter who needed a few days alone. "This is nice." She turned and stopped short when she noticed Graham kneeling beside the bed and yanking a floorboard free. "What are you…?"

"In case someone were to find this place. No use keeping valuables here if they're going to be out for everyone to see." As he spoke, he removed a large chest before reaching back into the hole and pulling out various pieces of cloth. He tossed a couple her way and she caught them. A shirt and breeches. Perfect.

Ylva stood there awkwardly for a moment and watched him tug a shirt over his head before opening the chest and revealing an impressive array of weapons. He chose a simple hunting dagger and slid it into his boot before taking the quiver and bow and making his way out, "I'll give you some privacy."

The man was monstrous, Ylva realized as she slipped on the pair of breeches first. She tucked the shirt into the pair of trousers and found that tying them would be much more effective than buttoning them up. She folded her dress, placed it beside the chest and stepped into her boots, securing them on either side and standing up. She wanted so badly to take a look at every piece in Graham's chest, but managed to pull herself away last minute. She could spend hours examining weapons, and it would likely ruin their hunting trip.

Kicking the chest closed, she made her way out the cabin, tying her hair back with a leather strap to keep it out of her face. "Ready."

"Have you ever used a bow?" Graham asked.

"Er…once or twice, maybe. Papa has me try them out sometimes, but I find swords are a lot easier."

He chuckled at that, stepping beside her and gesturing toward a tree. She noticed immediately that it had a red 'X' painted on its bark. Where the red paint came from, Ylva wasn't sure she wanted to know, but it was clear enough that Graham used it for target practice.

"Stance is key to wielding a bow. Keep your feet at a shoulder width apart," He started, widening his posture for demonstration. He drew an arrow from its quiver and pointed it downward, nocking it into place. "Keep your bow arm at eye level and breathe. Then pull and…" She watched as he inhaled deeply as he readied his bow, one eye closing to focus better on his target before releasing even as he exhaled sharply. It looked almost effortless and graceful, even, the way he shot the first arrow. It seemed to conform to his needs immediately as he shot it toward the 'X', moving in one quick, fluid motion and embedding itself right at the center of the target. Ylva gasped and hopped up.

"This is the first time I watch someone use a weapon I've created. It's…"

"Perfect," Graham finished, walking up to the target and examining the damage. "The arrow penetrated perfectly. As smooth as it were made of butter. Just like you said." He yanked the arrow out and ran a hand over it. The arrow remained in pristine condition – another advantage in using dwarven steel. "Let's see what you've got."

For the next few minutes, he acted as her coach. Ylva wasn't terrible with the bow once she managed to nock the arrow into place correctly. She kept forgetting to breathe, and on more than one occasion, managed to send the arrow flying into another tree, which Graham then had to go retrieve. She gave it several more tries and cried out victoriously when the arrow hit the 'X' a few inches below the center.

"You learn quickly," Graham called out as he retrieved the last arrow. "Come with me."

He led her over the stream and taught her to lay low, using gestures at random moments to signal her to shoot an arrow from a crouched position. Ylva found it a bit silly, but striking a tree seemed easy enough, and truth be told, she didn't think she was ready to strike an animal down just yet.

They hadn't gone far from the clearing when she spotted movement a short distance away. She paused for a moment, letting her eyes adjust despite her darkening surroundings, and realized the animal in question had been a bear.

Perhaps she should try at least once, she decided, and raised the bow, ready to strike, only to stop when she felt Graham's hand touch her shoulder. She lowered the weapon and looked at him to find him shaking his head no as he stood slowly, motioning for her to follow suit and look back at the bear.

Then she saw it. A small bear cub sat and nursed on its mother as she picked berries from a nearby bush. Ylva gasped and let out a shaky sigh. If she'd succeeded, the poor cub would have been orphaned and defenseless.

"Thank you."

A while later, they were back in the cabin, storing the weapons and placing the floorboard back in its designated spot. Graham stood and nodded once at her, "Not bad for your first time."

Ylva shrugged, digging into her satchel and pulling out two apples, tossing one his way before biting into her own. He caught it and followed suit. She chewed for a moment and sat on the chair at the far end of the room, propping her feet up on the table. "Thank you. For stopping me. That poor cub…I should have looked closer."

Graham shook his head, "It takes some practice, but hunting is more than finding a target and shooting."

"Isn't that exactly what hunting entails?"

He paused and leaned against the wall of the cabin before continuing, "Hunting is a mutual understanding between the hunter and the creature. While animals aren't exactly…consensual, the hunter must respect its sacrifice. These creatures are what keep us alive, and warm, " he added, motioning to the bear pelts on the bed, "They're more than just trophies to mount on your walls. And they're fiercely loyal to their own kind."

Ylva remained silent, staring at her friend in amazement. She'd never heard him speak of something so passionately. Quietly, she asked, "Is that what the wolves taught you?"

"Yes," he answered simply. "I owe my life to the wolves just as I owe my life to Alma."

He froze then, and Ylva did as well. She heard something scratching at the door, and she felt her blood run cold then. "What…"

Graham turned to open the door and Ylva had every intention to yell at him not to when a silver-white wolf made its way into the cabin and stood on its hind legs to welcome Graham. Its red eyes brought flashbacks to the day she first met Graham and she recognized it immediately. "Is that…"

"One of the pups, yes." He said, scratching the animal behind its ears before it pushed itself off Graham and moved over to Ylva. "Meet Romulus. I think he remembers you."

She laughed as Romulus sniffed her for a moment before lifting himself up and placing his paws on her lap. Ylva stared at him in amazement as she rubbed his snout and scratched behind his ears, "After all this time."

"He must have heard us. His pack stays nearby, I believe, but they've learned to stay away from the village."

"Well, I'll be more than happy if I get to see little Romulus again," Ylva replied, giving the wolf one more pat on the head before it slipped away and made its way out of the cabin.

"You will. It seems he missed you." Graham looked out the window as the last bits of sunlight disappeared over the horizon, "We should get you home now."


	4. Chapter 3: A Confession

**Here's chapter three! Hope you all enjoy it! I'm trying not to make this story go so fast, so I'm sorry if you feel this chapter is a bit of a filler. I really just wanted to add a little bit of Graham's point of view!**

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**Chapter 3  
**_A Confession_

They'd arrived back just as the sun disappeared and the moon rose overhead, full and bright. Torches lit the area just outside Ylva's home and she was able to make out the shape of a young boy heading inside.

"Gregori!" Graham called beside her, his face lighting up as Ylva's brother turned and grinned at the pair before running to join them. At eleven years old, Gregori was a fit and healthy boy. While Ylva had always been small for her age, Gregori towered over children his age, standing half a foot shorter than Ylva.

The younger boy flung his arms around Graham before turning to his sister with a stern look on his face, "Mother was beginning to wonder where you were."

"I made it back on time, didn't I?" Ylva asked with her hands on her hips, looking at Graham for confirmation.

"Oh, yes, we didn't go to far." He said, placing a strong hand on Gregori's shoulder.

Her brother's eyes lit up and Ylva found herself smiling in spite of herself. While her parents were never fond of Graham due to his mysterious upbringing, Ylva made a point of bringing her only friend around as often as possible. As a result, a growing Gregori grew to love the man as if he were the older brother he never had. It never bothered Ylva, given that it kept the attention off her most of the time. While little brothers could be difficult, she felt Graham's presence kept it from becoming worse than it could have been.

"Have you been helping your father 'round the forge?" Graham asked.

The boy nodded and planted his hands on his hips, his chest puffing out a bit in pride, "Papa says I'll be as good as him and Ylva someday. I must be. After all, Ylva's a girl. Girls don't belong in the forge according to mother."

Ylva's brows knit together, her jaw setting in annoyance, and it took everything in her not to reach out and slap her brother. She had half a mind to slap Graham instead when she heard him laugh at the comment.

It wasn't either one of their faults, though. Her mother never bothered to hide her distaste over Ylva's preferences in friends and hobbies. While Ylva loved her mother dearly, she hated the price that came with being a woman and the restrictions that also accompanied it.

"Off with you, Gregori. Tell mother I'll be there soon."

The boy whined at her request, but a warning look had him turning around and running into their cottage in no time.

She turned to Graham and gave him a half-hearted smile, placing a gentle hand on his arm. "Thank you for today. I'm happy my pestering got me somewhere."

Graham laughed and reached for her hand, squeezing it and shaking his head, "It was no problem. You're a quick learner. Thank you for this amazing gift," he added, holding the bow up, "No amount of hunting trips will ever repay it."

"Oh, stop that." Ylva waved it off, adding, "Would you like to come in for supper? Mother made venison stew."

He shook his head no, "No, thank you. Rhys wanted to meet at the tavern for a drink."

"_Again_?" She clucked her tongue and rolled her eyes before giving him a quick hug and heading toward the cottage while calling out, "Well, I'll see you tomorrow then. Bright and early! Make sure tonight's company leaves before I arrive, because I won't be waiting!" Ylva winked and turned to open the door to her home and walk inside.

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The Iron Cauldron wasn't very lively at such an early evening hour. Graham greeted Alma and received a warn greeting in return before he made his way up the stone steps and toward his room.

Thankfully, his bed had been vacant upon his arrival, sheets folded and pressed, which could only have been Alma's doing. The woman didn't seem to care that Graham was a grown man and continued to coddle him as if he were the same boy she'd found in the forest.

He smiled at the memory as he placed his new bow on the dresser along with the quiver and arrows, pausing to admire them once more. Dwarven steel, Ylva had said. Graham wasn't an expert in the types of metal used to forge weapons, but he'd been familiar enough with Dwarven steel to know it didn't come cheap, nor was it available close by. Ylva had been planning the gift for weeks, it seems, and all Graham had to offer in return was a hunting lesson. No matter what she said, he never felt he could ever repay her.

She'd given him so much thus far. Friendship when no one dared come near him – of course, until he met Rhys. His friendship with Ylva had always been different, however. When he first met her, he thought she was quite pretty, but that had been the extent of his affections. He knew she was special when the wolf and her pups let her sit with them, and accepted her friendship immediately afterward.

Things changed as they grew older, however. Graham had begun to notice small details like the way her sky blue eyes lit up when she spoke, or the way she nervously tucked her golden hair behind her ear repeatedly when something upset her. She was never the most graceful person, he acknowledged, unless she handled a weapon.

Ylva wasn't very experienced in handling them for combat, but as someone who assisted one of the greatest blacksmiths in the area, she knew details about certain weapons that handlers never considered. She was kind and gentle, yet audacious and dangerously outspoken – things that he knew horrified her mother and worried her father.

He hadn't realized he'd been pining after the girl until Alma pointed it out for him. It horrified him at the time, yet gave him a bit of hope that perhaps Ylva noticed him just as he did her. However, she hadn't given him the slightest clue that she may have, and so he never once mentioned it.

Graham sighed as he looked down at the weapon, only to finally turn his back on it and turn the doorknob to his room to walk back out, descending the steps to find Rhys seated at their usual table with a pint in his hand and another across from him, awaiting Graham.

He thanked Alma as he walked past her and took a seat. Rhys stood and clapped him on the back, "There you are! I was beginning to think you enjoyed that bonnie girl's company a little too much." He was referring to the woman who'd fallen asleep in his bed the night before.

Graham brought the pint to hit lips and downed some of its contents before setting it down, "Sadly, she fell asleep before I could do much."

"Ouch, brother, it seems you've lost your touch. Should I arrange a meeting with the Madame so you can, uh…_reacquaint_ yourself?"

Graham scoffed and shook his head no, leaning back in his seat. He'd known Rhys for several years and had always acknowledged that the man was handsome, hence why the women would usually flock to him. However, when Graham admitted never having known the pleasures of a woman's touch, Rhys felt it was his sworn duty to end his friends "predicament".

At sixteen years old, Graham was dragged to a pleasure house on the very opposite side of the village, closer to the docks in a building only accessible to 'valued' customers. The place looked clean enough, and the women were pretty, and more than happy to show Graham a thing or two while Rhys indulged in his own drunken pleasures just a few rooms down.

Graham's shy nature had gotten the better of him, and he was rendered impotent for a while. The ladies didn't seem to mind, and so, he conversed with them for a bit before they gave it another go, succeeding the second time around. They'd adored him so much that the Madame allowed Graham's first encounter free of charge.

Since then, he didn't frequent the brothel as much as Rhys did, but his friend would sometimes bring a girl along with him, and Graham would find himself entertaining for the night.

"I just didn't have the need. The pleasure house is far and it was getting late, so I offered her a place to sleep for the night. I had every intention of sleeping in a spare room, but I had a little too much to drink." He said finally, giving Rhys a knowing look.

The fair-haired man shrugged and lifted his glass, "Such a gentleman, Graham. Maybe it's time you give up on the strumpets and find the _one_." Rhys made a face as if the suggestion brought a bad taste to his mouth. "More women for me."

Graham laughed and lifted his own pint before finishing its contents.

"What about Ylva?"

He choked on the last bit of his ale, sputtering and coughing before wiping his mouth on his sleeve, "What about her?"

"Oh, she's a bonnie one, brother. Perhaps one of the prettiest in the village. And a fiery temper, that one."

Graham recalled a time Rhys found himself on the floor when he'd gotten a little too close to Ylva, resulting in a knee in the groin. The memory brought laughter, though it stopped short when his friend pointed his way abruptly.

"See, that's it right there. All I had to do is mention her and your eyes glaze over for just a second. It seems bonnie Ylva holds your heart."

Graham stayed silent, unable to deny it. Ylva was special, and had been the moment he met her. The girl had gone as far as gifting him with something she made out of pure enjoyment and love for what she did. Before her, Graham had thought the wolves were his only family aside from Alma. But Ylva held his heart before he'd even known she had.

And the girl still didn't even know it.

"Yes, Rhys," he said finally, holding his glass out as Alma filled it with more ale. He'd be drinking more than his fill tonight, "It seems she does."


End file.
